


Like Real People Do

by reitoei



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drinking, Friends With Benefits, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Todd is an asshole but that’s not news, buddyfucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-15 02:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reitoei/pseuds/reitoei
Summary: All guys do it, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been hustling to get this out before S2 and before NaNoWriMo takes over my life in November AND before the Christmas Big Bang. Also it gave me a lot of grief because my strength is plot, not character, and buddyfucking-with-feelings fics are supposed to be all _about_ character. Let’s just say there are a heck of a lot of outtakes.
> 
> BUT. It’s done, I’m satisfied, I’m posting the damn thing before I overthink it.
> 
> Please heed the warnings, Todd’s views are not exactly progressive. The author does not condone any views held by the characters, etc. etc.
> 
> Thank you for reading.

  
Dirk isn’t as sheltered as Todd seems to think he is, but there are certain things he feels like he’s totally missed out on which Todd frequently overlooks. Video games, for example. Star Wars. The Kardashians. Corn dogs.

The thing is, Todd sometimes gets weird about things like that when he brings them up.

It’s not that he’s inconsiderate, but he does tend to be emotionally… closed off. When Dirk accidentally talks about all the texts he gets from Amanda, for example, Todd gives him monosyllabic answers until Dirk gets the hint—sometimes a couple of hours later—that this is a sensitive subject best left off the table.

Dirk isn’t in the practice of being subtle, by rule, but he figures that since he did have some hand in that situation he ought to help Todd out where he can.

Point being, Todd gets the same way when Dirk mentions certain things about his youth and lack thereof, so he does his best to gauge what kinds of things will set him off and tries not to be so obvious about the stuff he doesn’t understand. It’s fair, he thinks. Todd is very accommodating, all things considered.

He _really_ wishes he knew a script for this situation, though.

-

They’re operating out of town. The case has taken them to a cute beach town in the middle of Labour Day long weekend, which, Todd informs him, is the traditional last hurrah of summer for youths everywhere. Consequently the hotels are packed and they’re lucky to get a room, and even then it’s a queen instead of two doubles.

Dirk has brought his favourite pair of swim trunks—the electric blue ones which make his red hair stand out, and he’s not vain, thanks, just fashionable—and his SPF 60 sunscreen and he’s ready for a day of beach-cruising. Unfortunately by the time they get there and find a place to stay it’s already nine at night and Todd is grumpy from having to drive the second half of the trip, so no beach cruising and no bar cruising either.

He doesn’t see why they can’t cruise the beach at night, but Todd is very insistent on this point.

The trouble is that Todd can fall asleep in a hot minute, at any time and in any place, and Dirk has got some kind of preternatural inability to shut his brain up as soon as the lights go off.

And it’s not like they’ve never shared a room before, but usually Todd is safely in his own bed so that when he engages in this particular night-time activity Dirk can roll over and pretend very hard to actually be asleep.

This time, however, he’s finding it significantly harder to do. Pun _not_ intended.

Dirk likes to think he’s not a prude, and certainly whacking off at boarding school while your mate is asleep in the same room is a good old English tradition—albeit one he’s never taken part in himself—but this is Todd, and it’s different. He’s curled up facing the wall but he can still hear Todd’s breathing, the way he holds it at intervals, the unsubtle rustle of the sheets that’s hurriedly silenced. Every so often if he strains he can hear a rhythmic wet noise—which he doesn’t, of course, at least not very often.

Slowly, he inches a hand down so that he can press the heel of his palm firmly to where certain more unscrupulous body parts are taking interest.

_No_ , he thinks sternly.

It takes Todd an unreasonably long time to finish.

-

Dirk is tired the next morning, but nothing he can’t handle—or at least, nothing that can’t be handled by an extra large, double whip, four-shot blended coffee.

“What?” he says when Todd returns and gives him A Look.

“I’m not peeling you off the hotel ceiling later,” Todd says. He’s wearing cool-looking shades and looking, well, unfairly cool in his flip-flops and his striped beach shorts and a tank top that doesn’t cover much of anything.

“Caffeine helps me concentrate!” Dirk insists, hurrying after him. “Where shall we go today? The beach, the bar on the beach, and the beach again?”

“Shouldn’t we be investigating?” Todd asks.

“I have a feeling this is exactly what the universe wants us to investigate,” Dirk tells him, gulping down his coffee. If there’s anything America’s really good at, it’s weird coffees. They’re weird enough that even he can drink them. “The sand, the sun—”

“The rocks, the frigid water, and the screaming children?” Todd supplies.

“Have you ever had fun in your life?” Dirk inquires, cocking his head.

“Fuck off.” But Todd is laughing good-humouredly, and even though Dirk can’t see his eyes behind the cool sunglasses he can picture them squinched up in amusement. “You want to rent a beach umbrella, or are we going swimming?”

“Swimming!” Dirk says. “Sun bathing is out, out, out. I freckle in a terrible way.”

“You realize you get twice as much sun if you’re out in the water,” Todd points out. He drops their towels and his bag behind a log and strips his shirt over his head.

Dirk hums and sucks on his straw, distracted by Todd’s sudden nudity.

“The UV is multiplied by the sun reflecting off the water,” Todd goes on. “If you burn easily, we should just get an umbrella you can sit under—”

"Oh,” Dirk says abruptly. He digs into his bag and finds the sunscreen, holds it aloft triumphantly. “It’s waterproof.”

Todd remains skeptical, but at least he can be convinced to do Dirk’s back.

It’s been years since Dirk has gone to the beach in any capacity so he thinks he can be forgiven for his unbridled enthusiasm. It’s hot enough that the water is lovely, and even Todd looks like he’s enjoying himself after a while. When they get tired and want a break they go up the shore and sit on a log and they’re dry in ten minutes. It’s a perfect beach day.

By the end of the day Dirk can feel himself getting tender in spite of the sunscreen. He puts his sandals back on and urges Todd out of the water and up toward the bar.

“I’m hungry, and I’ve got a good feeling about this place,” he says.

“There’s a diner down the street that won’t break the bank,” Todd protests, but Dirk only chivvies him along.

He has several feelings right now, in fact, seeing Todd’s salt-and-sun styled hair and his reddened cheeks and his grin—but the strongest of them is telling him to go into the bar, so as much as he’d rather have milkshakes and grilled cheese at the diner they head up the beach to Antonio’s instead.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a bar person,” Todd tells him as they climb the stairs. “Or is this for the case?”

“When we’re on the case, _everything_ we do is for the case.” Dirk pulls on his shirt. Todd’s eyes track the movement. He pulls a button-down out of his bag and tugs that on, too, swiftly buttoning it up. “That’s how it works.”

“You came prepared,” Todd says accusingly.

“You didn’t?” Dirk reaches into his bag again. “That’s okay, I brought one for you, too.”

He shakes it at Todd, who takes it and holds it up like it’s going to bite him. “Does this place have a dress code or something?”

“Or something,” Dirk agrees with a disarming grin. Mostly he just likes dressing Todd up. It’s fun, like having your own personal Calvin Klein model—except short. But with a jawline that could cut glass, yowza.

Todd looks at him. “You’re staring.”

“Right, sorry.” Dirk turns away and pretends to fiddle with something while Todd takes his shirt off and swaps it for the one Dirk brought him. Not a believer in undershirts, is Todd.

Dirk sees an opportunity. “I also brought slacks—”

Todd cuts him off. “Not a chance.”

The bar is noisy and crowded and has what Dirk likes to call ‘enhancement lighting’—dark enough that everyone looks pretty good but not so dark you might mistake your date for someone else. He pushes his way to the bar and orders two drinks and some chips on the company credit card.

“Here you go,” Dirk says as he sets the drinks down on the bar and hikes himself onto the high stool next to Todd.

“You didn’t order beers?” Todd lifts the drink.

“Oh, trust me, it’s much more exciting than beer,” Dirk assures him. He wiggles the straw around to mix it up. It’s pink and blue and it’s got a little umbrella, which really sealed the deal for him.

He kicks his legs a bit as Todd looks around, _casing the joint_ as he calls it. It’s all very professional and it warms the cockles of his heart. He hides his smile by drinking more and winces as the sweet fruitiness gives way to a hearty kick underneath.

“I don’t see anything unusual,” Todd says finally, sitting back and taking a sip of his drink. He makes a face and puts it back down. “Jesus, what is this?”

“It’s what the ladies buy to get really, really drunk,” Dirk says solemnly. “The bartender told me so.”

“I’m not getting college-girl wasted with you,” Todd says, eyeing the drink.

“Don’t worry,” Dirk assures him. “It’s just bait.”

“Bait?”

“Yes, for clues,” he explains. Todd doesn’t look any less confused.

Luckily Dirk’s gambit is self-explanatory, and in short order a pair of women sidle up to them with sly smiles.

“Looks like you’re ready to have a good time tonight,” says the taller, blonder of the two, leaning over her friend. “Do you guys dance?”

“Not really—” Todd begins.

“I _love_ to dance,” Dirk interrupts. “I was part of a hip-hop club once. We competed nationally and I got to shake hands with the American president.”

Todd raises his eyebrows and gives him a disbelieving look, but the girls seem suitably impressed.

“Are you British, then?” The shorter one puts her half-finished drink down on the bar. She flashes him a dimpled smile and tosses her long, dark hair. “You should show me your moves. I’ve never met a British guy who can do hip-hop.”

“You’ll like this,” Dirk tells her as he gets up. He shoots Todd a thumbs-up behind her back as they leave, and Todd rolls his eyes. He’s still having a tough time mingling with potential clue-givers—he can be a bit dour, Dirk finds. He just needs to have fun once in a while.

The girl who wants to dance introduces herself as Megan over the thumping bass-line. “I’m Dirk Gently,” Dirk says, shaking her hand vigorously. “I’m a holistic detective and I’m on a case right now, so be sure to tell me if you see anything that looks like a clue.”

She giggles and nods. “Sure, okay.”

Later when Dirk glances back at the bar Todd seems to have lightened up; he’s on his second drink and he’s smiling at something the blonde says, his eyes on her pretty face as she waves her hands around. Megan comes up behind him and slips a hand around his waist, her hips swaying.

“So, do you share? Cause you’re better at dancing than I expected, and he’s pretty cute too.” She leans her cheek against his shoulder and Dirk looks down at her.

“We’re not—” He looks back up at Todd. “Together?”

“Aw, honey.” She pouts exaggeratedly. “You should go for it. I bet he’d let you hit that. I’d let you.”

Dirk feels like he’s missed something. “Do you, um, want to?”

Megan laughs. “You haven’t come near my ass all night. I don’t think you want to. Don’t worry, you can tell him that you copped a feel and I didn’t want to go back to your hotel, if you’re not out to him yet.”

She links her arm through his and pulls him back to the dance floor as he fumbles for words. “Come on, I love this song!”

-

By the time Megan has had her fill of dancing and drinking Dirk is exhausted, a bit sweaty, and most definitely drunk.

“That was fun!” he cheers as they stumble off the dance floor.

“Yeah!” She pumps her fists in the air, and then drops them. “And I’m so ready to drop dead.”

“I feel like I’ve gone a round with the electric ghost rhino,” Dirk agrees. She gives him a puzzled look. “It’s a euphemism,” he says hurriedly.

Todd looks up as they approach. He’s wearing a smile that’s soft around the edges and he looks pleased with himself, slouching back against the bar with his legs open and one elbow propped up on the counter. The girl leans in toward him as they talk and fiddles with her straw.

“There’s another place down the street that’s open later,” says Megan as they come up to the bar. She grabs her unfinished drink and slams it back, grimacing. “Oh, gross. Yeah, I need a top up.”

The blonde—Amanda or Alice or something—looks between her and Todd and shrugs with a placid smile. “Sounds good to me.”

The two of them follow the girls out of the bar. Todd helps the blonde into her coat and Dirk hangs back, zipping and unzipping his jacket absentmindedly as he watches them. The cold air is sobering him up quickly.

Todd’s ready to go with them, he knows. There’s nothing in his gut telling him to go back to the hotel, so strictly speaking he could accompany the three of them—but the thought makes him queasy for entirely different reasons.

To his surprise, however, Todd comes ambling over as the girls head out with cheerful waves.

“Aren’t you going along with them?” Dirk lifts his eyebrows.

“Dude, no,” Todd laughs. “I can’t leave you to go back to the hotel alone. You’d like, fall into the ocean or something.”

“Todd!” He puts a hand to his chest in a dramatic gesture to cover his delight. “I am wounded that you think that of me. I’m a very capable human being.”

“Uhuh,” Todd says. “Also, we’re on a case.”

“That’s very responsible of you,” Dirk says, trying to sound properly approving.

By the time they get back to the hotel it’s almost two in the morning and Dirk has stopped being incredibly drunk and is now incredibly tired, and he aches everywhere from swimming, and his head hurts from the lights. He leans against Todd a bit while Todd tries to open their door.

“You’re heavy,” Todd complains, pushing at him.

“You’d make a terrible bed,” Dirk tells him woozily. “You’re all… sharp.”

“Well, I’m not a bed, so get off,” Todd says, although his words lack any sting. He finally manages to slide the card through the little machine and the door beeps happily. “Thank God,” he groans. “I need sleep, Advil, and water. And so do you.”

Somehow they make it into the bed sans shoes, jackets, or any other boozy-smelling bits of clothing, but Dirk is sober enough now that his brain is happily going in circles instead of going to sleep. He lets out a quiet sigh into the darkness and tries to derail his thoughts from the train of _Todd is lying next to you, isn’t he warm, isn’t it lovely, you should move your leg or it’ll get a cramp, hey, what’s the fifteenth digit of pi, remember how Todd is right next to you?_

“Hey, Dirk,” Todd murmurs, interrupting his thoughts. “You awake?”

“Yes,” Dirk says immediately, looking over. Todd is lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

“That girl was pretty hot, right?” Todd says, shifting around a bit.

Dirk hums. “I suppose,” he agrees. He wants to append _if you’re into that sort of thing._

“Her friend was all over you.” Todd’s wriggling around, and when he realizes Dirk is watching him he freezes, his eyes luminous in the faint light from the street lamps that’s coming in through the curtains. “Is this okay?”

Dirk blinks, confused. “Huh?”

It takes him a second to catch on, and when he does he can feel his cheeks going hot. “Oh. Yes it’s—fine.”

He tries not to squirm as the reality of what Todd’s doing sinks in. It’s so much more real when Todd knows he’s awake. He looks up at the ceiling quickly when Todd shuts his eyes and lets out a sigh.

“You can—” Todd begins, after a moment.

He doesn’t even get the rest of his sentence out before Dirk has a hand down his shorts.

He’s already halfway there just from the noises Todd makes—he’s louder when there’s an audience, Dirk catalogues.

He gives a shuddering sigh when he finally drags his finger over his cock from the base to the tip, gently at first, rubbing the foreskin over the head. Beside him Todd’s elbow nudges his ribs as he moves his hand in the same rhythm. Dirk bites his lip and stares valiantly at the ceiling.

Suddenly Todd scrambles up and leans over the side of the bed. Dirk props himself up on one elbow and watches him; he’s not wearing a shirt, just a pair of boxers that ride down his ass as he rifles around in his bag.

“Lube,” Todd says, coming back up. He squirts some into the palm of his hand and hands it to Dirk.

“Um.” Dirk doesn’t quite know how to apprise Todd on how the rest of the world jerks off, so he hesitates. “I don’t use lube.”

“Uhh, okay.” Todd looks at him blankly. He takes the tube back. “Are you sure?”

His face must be flaming red by now, Dirk thinks. “Yes—um, it’s not necessary. I’m not circumcised.”

Understanding dawns and Todd goes gratifyingly pink. “Right. Yeah.” And then, “Wouldn’t lube just make it… better, though?”

“Well, I’ve never tried,” Dirk informs him honestly.

“I could, um.” Todd gestures with his right hand. “Show you.”

“Sure,” Dirk says, too stunned to say much else. He watches wide-eyed as Todd shuffles toward him, hand cupped awkwardly.

After a second he realizes Todd is trying to figure out how to get his hand in Dirk’s shorts without getting lube everywhere. He yanks them off and practically flings them off the side of the bed, and then is momentarily frozen with embarrassment.

Todd giggles a bit and Dirk lets out a sigh of relief. He’s just wearing an undershirt now and he’s achingly hard under the sheets. He tries not to move, or even breathe, as Todd wraps his hand tentatively around Dirk’s cock.

Todd leans on his elbow so that he’s almost propped over Dirk, still half-smiling, so close and smelling like sun and salt, and Dirk’s arms give out—it’s all too much. He flops back against the pillow and lets out a breath, closing his eyes.

The lube doesn’t make a dramatic difference, but _this_ does, Todd’s calloused thumb running up and down the thickest part of his cock, the way he’s just a little rough, like he probably is with himself—Dirk squeezes his eyes shut tighter. A noise escapes him and he grabs the sheets in one hand.

Todd figures out how foreskin works pretty quickly and when he begins sliding it up and pushing it down torturously slowly, Dirk stops holding back his noises.

“Come on, please,” he begs, squirming. Between that and the lube he’s getting enough feeling to drive him crazy but not enough friction to push him over the edge.

Todd makes a sound and shifts around. His hand tightens on Dirk’s cock and Dirk gasps, hips arching up. He doesn’t dare open his eyes in case this is a dream that will evaporate when he wakes up.

Then Todd’s hand stops moving, and Dirk has to crack his eyes open. A jolt goes through him when he realizes that Todd has his other hand wrapped around his dick, arm moving awkwardly in the same motion. He’s got his bottom lip tucked firmly between his teeth and his eyes are downcast.

“Ah,” Dirk gasps, feeling something hot in the pit of his stomach. He reaches down and covers Todd’s hand with his own, his thumb brushing the exposed head of his cock.

“Fuck,” Todd groans. His back bows as he comes all over their hands, his cock jerking under Dirk’s fingers.

His hand tightens reflexively on Dirk and Dirk thrusts into his fist, the wet noise of the lube practically obscene. It doesn’t take him long, and he lets out a strangled cry and it feels like the hot thing in him blooms into something else as he throws his head back against the pillow.

He opens his eyes after a minute and stares at the ceiling.

Todd is hovering. When he realizes Dirk is looking at him he turns away quickly and grabs some tissues off the nightstand.

“It’s better with lube,” Dirk tells him breathlessly, and he’s only fudging the truth a little. “Maybe you Americans aren’t wrong about everything.”

“Fuck off.” Todd throws the tissue box at him, trying not to grin.

-


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

They’ve only been back in Seattle for two days when Dirk’s least favourite people show up in their rumbling, grumbling van and spit out one of Dirk’s _most_ favourite people on the sidewalk in front of his apartment.

 

“I’ve got a gig,” Amanda tells him. She stands awkwardly in his doorway with her bag slung over one shoulder, her hair pulled back from her face messily. “Can I crash here?”

 

“Of course,” Dirk says, blinking.

 

She droops with relief. “Oh, good. I thought you’d be mad at me.”

 

“Um, why would I be…?” He trails off as she pushes inside and slings her bag onto the couch.

 

“God, your place is so much nicer than Todd’s shit-hole,” she sighs, collapsing next to her bag. “Is Farah bankrolling your swanky lifestyle now? You should buy a bigger couch.”

 

Dirk holds up his hand. “Yes, she is, and no, I like this one,” he ticks off on his fingers. “And three, why would I be mad at you?”

 

“Because Todd’s an asshole,” she says, like it’s obvious.

 

Dirk doesn’t understand. “I don’t understand.”

 

“You’re his best friend?” She shrugs. “Shouldn’t you be mad at me for like, making him upset or something?”

 

“Oh,” Dirk says. “You know, I have limited experience in the matter but I don’t think that’s how friendship works. In fact, that seems eminently unreasonable.”

 

Amanda laughs. “You’re such a weirdo. But I’m glad, cause I don’t want to get an Air B&B.”

 

It’s nice, actually, having someone else in his apartment. Amanda stays for two days and Dirk gets used to having her there pretty quickly, even though he’s not home most of the time; he and Todd are still sort of nudging at the missing vase case in the hopes that following random hunches will bring them clues. Mostly it’s just gotten them a lot of suspicious looks, since punk-rock Todd and Dirk’s yellow jacket really tend to stand out at the auction houses.

 

Todd doesn’t ask to see her, although Dirk hints at it a couple of times. He’s not sure if this is the kind of problem that can be solved by talking more or talking less.

 

-

 

Other than that everything is going more or less fine—until, of course, someone breaks into his apartment.

 

“Jesus,” Amanda says. They stand in the doorway, surveilling the damage. “This is pretty bad.”

 

“It wasn’t your, uh, friends?” Dirk asks hopefully. She shakes her head.

 

“They’re out of town right now. Can’t stay in one place for too long, I guess. Otherwise I would’ve just slept in the van this week.”

 

“It must be connected to the case of the missing vase,” Dirk says, picking his way across the floor. “I left the certificate of antiquity and all the papers in the drawer over here—”

 

Then he sees the body.

 

“That wasn’t there when I left,” he yelps, jumping back.

 

Amanda comes up behind him and then swears violently. “What the _fuck_. We are _not_ sleeping here tonight.”

 

She calls the police and Dirk calls Todd, and Todd shows up hot on the heels of three police cruisers with Farah in the passenger seat, driving the rental car like he’s never heard of a speed limit. Dirk waves to him from the curb as he parallel parks at top speed.

 

“Can we stay at your place?” he asks as Todd steps out.

 

Todd looks between them, suddenly uncertain, as if he’d forgotten that Amanda would be there. Amanda crosses her arms and Dirk tries to smile in a disarming manner as she radiates hostility beside him.

 

“Why can’t you stay with Farah? She has a huge place.”

 

“No.” Farah swings out of the passenger seat and stands. “Nobody’s staying with me.”

 

“Fine.” Todd brushes past them stiffly. “What do the cops say?”

 

“Mostly ‘stay out of the way’,” Dirk says evasively.

 

“Are the auction papers still in there?” Todd asks over his shoulder.

 

“Yes, they’re in the desk right next to the dead fellow,” he says, quickening his pace as Todd heads for the entranceway. For a guy with short legs he’s fast.

 

“I’m staying in the car,” Amanda yells.

 

“Fine!” Todd is scowling by the time Dirk catches up to him.

 

Two uniformed officers are still standing by the door of the building and an ambulance attendant loiters near his vehicle, but the bulk of them are upstairs ooh-ing and aah-ing over the headless man on the floor behind his desk. The officer to the left of the door pins them with a look as they approach.

 

“I hope you don’t think you’re going in there,” she says, stepping forward.

 

“Oh, certainly not! We’re just going to wait here—” Dirk declares as Todd unlocks the door. “Maybe slip inside,” he amends, ducking around her quickly.

 

She lunges for them just a second too late and he slams the door behind them, locking her out. “Oh dear,” he says. “She’ll be mad.”

 

“The auction papers are our only real lead,” Todd says, marching toward the elevator. “We have to get them.”

 

“Todd, you’ve really taken to detective-ing like a fish to water,” Dirk says, hurrying after him, “but I’m not so sure you fully accept the _holistic_ aspect of it all. If we need the auction papers they’ll come to _us_.”

 

“There’s holistic and there’s waiting for the universe to hand you stuff on a silver platter,” Todd shoots back.

 

He hits the button for Dirk’s floor with more force than necessary and Dirk winces. He’s probably angry about Amanda—both Brotzmans are stubborn and not terribly good at expressing their emotions, Dirk has found, which makes for a stormy combination at this particular junction of their relationship.

 

“I suppose you have a point,” Dirk says eventually into the silence as the elevator goes up. “In fact, if you were meant to be my best friend slash assistant then perhaps I was meant to come around to your way of doing things, too.”

 

“I don’t know,” Todd begins, turning to him. Then he lets out a sigh and shrugs, obviously giving up.

 

Dirk pats him on the shoulder hesitantly. “You’ll get the hang of thinking holistically someday.”

 

“Thanks, Dirk,” Todd says without enthusiasm. “That’s encouraging, and yet, still patronizing.”

 

The elevator doors open. Two crime scene photographers lingering by Dirk’s doorway stare at them as they exit into the hall.

 

“Just popping in to grab some essentials,” Dirk tells them as he and Todd hurry past. They look at each other.

 

“Hey!” One of them says finally, heading into the apartment after them. “You’re not supposed to go in there!”

 

Inside there are five uniformed officers, two women in forensic coveralls, and a detective in plain clothes standing behind the desk. They all look up, and Dirk freezes. Todd hangs back behind him, his boldness dissipating in the face of poor odds.

 

“Hello,” Dirk says, lifting his hand. “It’s me. Dirk Gently. I’ve just left some things in my desk, if you would be so kind—”

 

“Who are you?” the detective barks.

 

“I just told you—” Dirk tries.

 

He steps around the desk. “Hang on. You’re the guy who was in the elevator when we got here.”

 

Dirk looks back at Todd, who’s narrowing his eyes. He offers him a guilty smile.

 

“You didn’t talk to the cops?” Todd says.

 

“Not as such. We sort of slipped out before the police arrived,” he tells Todd.

 

“This is your apartment?” The detective asks. He gestures to two of the uniformed police and they uncross their arms.

 

Dirk shuffles backward, holding up his hands as they advance. “Technically I’m only _renting_ , so it’s not mine _._ ”

 

“Uhuh, we got us a joker. Javier, Williams, take them into custody. We’ve got some questions for you.”

 

“That’s quite unnecessary!” Dirk tells them, alarmed, but the two officers descend on them with surprising speed for their mountainous size.

 

“Hey, get your hands off me,” Todd says as the taller one grabs him. “You can’t do this! We haven’t done anything wrong.”

 

“Quiet,” the officer says, shaking him easily. “Get going.”

 

The two officers frogmarch them downstairs and out the door and load them into the back of the police vehicle. Todd protests loudly; Dirk matches him in volume, at least, but probably not vitriol. American police still make him a bit nervous.

 

Farah and Amanda watch, open-mouthed, from the front seat of Farah’s car.

 

_Holy shit,_ Amanda mouths.

 

_HELP,_ Dirk mouths back. She shakes her head vigorously.

 

Inside the car Todd tips his head back and stares at the ceiling.

 

“This was _not_ my fault,” Dirk says.

 

“You ran away from the police _after you called them_ and you left a dead body in your flat,” Todd says.

 

Dirk huffs. “Excellent recap. To be fair to me, however, our police record hasn’t been stellar. Between the one who pointed a gun at us and held us hostage and the one who turned out to be a soul-swapping cultist I think my reaction was reasonable.”

 

“Point,” Todd admits. He rolls his head to look at Dirk. “I don’t think the CIA is going to bail you out this time.”

 

“No, probably not.” Dirk sighs.

 

“You could have said something. We would’ve figured out another way to get the papers.”

 

“But I trusted you,” Dirk says. He folds his arms, feeling cross. He doesn’t like bossy Todd.

 

“Yeah.” Todd’s gaze returns to the ceiling, but he’s half smiling now. “I know. Your decision making skills are definitely lacking.”

 

“Well, so are yours, because you trust me too!” Dirk splutters, wrong-footed by the teasing.

 

“Yep.” Todd grins

 

-

 

By the time they’re released from the station it’s late. Amanda has already beat them to Todd’s apartment, broken in and set herself up on the couch.

 

“You’ll have to sleep on the air mattress,” Todd tells Dirk apologetically while he makes tea. “It’s not the greatest.”

 

“I’ve slept on worse,” Dirk assures him. “Once I slept in an abandoned nuclear bunker on the bare concrete—those were dark times. Although it was the height of summer in Arizona, so I did appreciate the _concept_ of being underground at the time. In practice it was a bit gloomy, though.”

 

“A nuclear bunker?” Todd makes the face he always makes when he thinks Dirk isn’t telling the truth, which is just— _well_. Typical, actually, Dirk supposes.

 

“This will be much less unpleasant.” He stirs one spoonful of sugar into his tea and then without hesitation adds another. And a third for good measure. He _deserves_ it. “Actually, it’ll more like a sleepover. And your floor isn’t made of concrete, which is sensible.”

 

“Did I just hear you compare Todd’s air mattress to the floor of a nuclear fallout shelter?” Amanda calls from the living room.

 

Dirk pokes his head around the corner. “I was saying I think it’ll be an improvement.”

 

“You’re kidding yourself,” she tells him, not looking up from her phone.

 

Sometimes Dirk thinks he’s lucky not to have to think much about what comes out of his mouth. He keeps up a stream of chatter as the three of them sit awkwardly about the living room—mostly at Amanda, since Todd is making his pained ‘ _My sister hates me’_ face, which doesn’t bode well for conversation. He’s got a lot of faces. Dirk is proud of himself for having figured so many of them out. That’s good quality best friend material.

 

It’s for that reason that when Todd starts to make his ‘ _I’m going to say something I will regret in the morning’_ face Dirk leaps to his feet and says, “We should be going to bed. It’s late, we still have a case and there will undoubtedly be clues to receive tomorrow—and _you_ have rehearsal.”

 

Amanda rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’m a drummer, I don’t need to rehearse.”

 

“Yes, but even drummers can’t ‘ _rock and roll’_ without sleep. Goodnight!” Dirk leans down and hugs her without a second thought.

 

Todd hovers anxiously behind him and Amanda gives him a warning look. “Goodnight,” he offers instead of a hug.

 

“Yep. Later, losers.” She flops back down on the couch and picks her phone up.

 

The air mattress is terrible—not concrete floor terrible, but bad enough that Dirk can’t sleep. He lies awake on his back and stares up at the thin sliver of light coming in through the curtains from the streetlamp outside, his mind racing. And racing. And racing.

 

Todd groans and rolls toward him. “I can hear your brain going at warp speed. Stop moving around and go to sleep.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m being perfectly still,” Dirk lies, suppressing a particularly vicious fidget in his right toe.

 

“You’re fidgeting right now,” Todd tells him.

 

“You’re right,” Dirk agrees mournfully. “I forgot to stop moving my _other_ toe.”

 

Todd lets out a sigh.

 

“It’s just that the floor is very hard,” he mumbles. “And I’m not tired.”

 

It’s silent for a moment and Dirk tries valiantly to remember the meditative techniques they taught him at the CIA school of rather useless things to do with your brain. It doesn’t work, of course, because of the aforementioned uselessness. He just feels more fidgety.

 

Finally Todd shuffles back from the edge of the bed. “You could come up here, I guess. And, um, I know something that always puts me to sleep.”

 

“What?” Dirk sits up. Todd stares determinedly at the corner of the ceiling instead of looking at him. The pattern suddenly emerges in Dirk’s mind. “—Oh. That’s a good idea, actually. Not to say that I haven’t thought of it myself, but it would be rude to just—you know, but if you don’t mind—”

 

“Just get up here,” Todd says.

 

Dirk gets up and sits on the edge of the bed. It dips under his weight. Todd doesn’t look over until Dirk swings his legs up, and then he lifts the quilt in an invitation to get under.

 

“You may as well,” he says.

 

“Thanks.” Dirk slides underneath it and wriggles a bit to settle in.

 

Todd’s bed is—nice. It’s got Todd in it, which is a big advantage over any other bed. It’s warm, because Todd was lying where he is a second ago. Dirk hums and closes his eyes.

 

“Better?” Todd asks.

 

“Much.” Dirk opens his eyes. “Can I—?” he asks.

 

In response, Todd reaches out toward him. “It’s good when someone else does it, right?”

 

Dirk has become accustomed to holding his breath where Todd is concerned, because sometimes he’s afraid that if he breathes he’ll dispel the illusion. Like when they drove out into the middle of the woods with a treasure map and Todd put pink bandaids over the cuts on his face—he touched Dirk’s face like he cared, and Dirk held his breath until his lungs hurt.

 

Dirk gets that feeling when Todd’s knuckles push against his hip as he pulls down the waistband of his pants. He has an irrational urge to reciprocate, as if his touch will have the same effect on Todd.

 

Todd sucks in a breath when Dirk runs his fingers over the bulge in his pyjama bottoms. He’s already firming up and his cock pulses under Dirk’s hand appreciatively.

 

“That’s good,” he says and Dirk feels absurdly encouraged.

 

He rubs Todd clumsily through the cotton and Todd’s lips part and his eyes close. He wraps his fingers around Dirk’s bare cock and strokes him with more finesse, and Dirk gasps softly.

 

“You like it?” Todd whispers.

 

Dirk nods before he remembers that Todd isn’t looking at him. “Yeah.”

 

Then he thinks of the last time, and he pulls back. “Don’t you have lube?” He sits up and the comforter falls away from his chest.

 

“Keep it down,” Todd whispers.

 

He rolls over and opens the drawer of his bedside table carefully. Dirk catches the tube he tosses over. It’s the same brand, and when he flips the cap open and squeezes some out onto his fingers it’s slick and wet but not sticky. He doesn’t mind it.

 

Todd shuffles closer again and pulls back the blanket. “Don’t get it on the sheets,” he says.

 

His figure is barely a silhouette against the curtains. Dirk can make out his eyes and the shape of his nose, the pale curve of his ribs and a dark nest of curls at the vee of his groin where his cock pushes up eagerly.

 

He reaches out and cups his hand around Todd, spreading lube over the soft head and the shaft. It’s like his but not, a little thicker and with a different shape. There’s a vein that runs from the base to the underside of the head at his circumcision scar and he runs his thumb along it curiously.

 

Todd hisses and bites his lip. “It’s sensitive,” he says.

 

“Sorry,” Dirk mumbles. He adds more lube for good measure. “Alright?”

 

“Yeah, better.” Todd arches his neck and his eyes fall shut again. Dirk is a diligent learner; he quickly figures out that Todd likes when he slides his wet palm over the tip, and when he applies a firmer hand Todd makes a noise in his throat and fumbles for Dirk under the covers.

 

It’s more intense like this, laying side by side with their arms crossed over each other, Todd’s panting breaths and the smell of him all over the bed. Dirk is close almost too soon. He rolls onto his side and burrows his face into the pillow, trying not to lose the rhythm as Todd thrusts into his grip without shame and manages to jerk him off with perfect coordination. It makes Dirk shudder all over to think that Todd is close, too.

 

He stuffs a fist into his mouth and focuses on twisting his fist around Todd’s cock, his own hips moving inadvertently. Todd makes a choked noise and goes still suddenly, and Dirk opens his eyes as come drips over his hand.

 

“Fuck,” Todd gasps, staring at him. He reaches up with his other hand and swipes two fingers through the come on his stomach, then lifts them to Dirk’s mouth.

 

Dirk stares at him, wide-eyed, and slowly parts his lips. Todd slides his fingers inside to press against his tongue and starts stroking Dirk’s cock again. He’s hopelessly out of his depth, overwhelmed. The thought flashes through his mind that this is probably something Todd does with his girlfriends—slides his bitter fingers all along her tongue and watches her lick them clean.

 

His orgasm hits without warning and he gasps in spite of his efforts to be quiet, the sound spilling out of him without prompting.

 

Todd pulls his hand away and wipes it off on the other side of the bed. Dirk touches his mouth, unable to take his eyes away from Todd’s profile as he cleans himself off with a tissue.

 

“Here,” Todd says, handing him a wad of tissues.

 

“Thanks.” Dirk tears his eyes away, embarrassed to be caught staring. Afterward he pulls the covers up to his neck and risks another glance over at Todd.

 

“Tired now?” Todd is half smiling. The expression surprises Dirk, makes his chest feel tight with something he’d rather not think about. He finds himself smiling back in response.

 

“Mmhm,” he hums, tucking his legs up. His shins rest against Todd’s thighs and Todd doesn’t push them away.

 

He falls asleep faster than he ever has.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

After that, Dirk is waiting for it. Anticipation buzzes under his skin every time he and Todd are alone in a room, or alone in a car, or on one memorable occasion alone in the middle of a field—although Dirk doesn’t think exhibitionism is strictly his thing. It’s probably more that  _ Todd _ is his thing.

 

It makes him more antsy than usual, especially as their case grinds to a standstill in a rather spectacular fashion after the police catch them breaking into an auction house one night and warn them off the murder case.

 

“Would you quit pacing?” Todd sighs and lies back down on the couch as Dirk goes back and forth across the living room carpet. “We’ve never gotten anywhere by strategizing so I don’t get why you want to start now.”

 

“I don’t know, Todd, maybe because strategizing is a time-honoured tradition of successful people everywhere and I’d like to be successful for once in my life?” Dirk says, cross.

 

Farah rolls her eyes. “Todd’s right. You’re supposed to be all… go with the flow. I don’t see how this is going to help.”

 

“Why are you so upset anyway?” Todd says. “Normally you’re like—’everything will work out the way it’s supposed to’.”

 

“I just—” Dirk sighs. Farah eyes him warily, as if emotions are contagious and he’s about to spill them all over. “I thought it was supposed to be easier with friends. It’s not, it’s still difficult  _ and _ you’re disappointing other people.”

 

Todd pushes himself upright. “I hate to break it to you, but that’s life. Disappointing the people you care about and never knowing what you should be doing.”

 

“Don’t be a dick, Todd,” Farah says. “Things aren’t supposed to be easier—they’ll always be hard. I guess for you especially. But now you’ve got people to share it with, and people to help you so that you can do your thing instead of trying to do something else you’re no good at.”

 

“I’m good at planning!” Dirk protests loudly to cover up how unexpectedly touched he is by Farah’s support.

 

“You’re not,” she tells him blankly.

 

“It’s true, dude,” Todd says. He shrugs. “You’re a lot better at running around in the general vicinity of a plan until things happen to you. It’s not a bad thing—” He makes a face. “Well, okay, it’s not great. But trust me, you’re fine.”

 

Dirk sits down on the sofa next to him. “Thanks, I think.”

 

Todd gives him a wry smile. “Hey, we’re a bunch of pessimists and we rely on your eternal optimism to keep us together.”

 

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me,” Dirk says. He’s half joking, and the other half of him is squirming because of the way Todd’s eyes go kind of soft when he smiles. Dirk shakes his head, as if to dislodge the thought. “You may have a point, though. We balance each other out, with my sunny optimism and positive, go-getter attitude versus your and Farah’s unrelenting pessimism—”

 

“I’m a realist,” Farah speaks up. “Leave me out of your weird bromance.”

 

Dirk catches Todd making a strange face out of the corner of his eye and his stomach sinks. But before he can say anything Farah leans forward and says, “I have an idea. We should go to the museum.”

 

The museum is where the allegedly cursed vase originated before it was purchased by their client’s mother and later put up for auction. Dirk can’t argue with the logic of Farah’s idea, especially since neither he nor Todd have an alternative to offer.

 

The plan is, of course, to infiltrate in broad daylight.

 

“Wouldn’t it be more like ‘visiting’ than ‘infiltrating’?” Todd frowns at the blueprints. “Also, where did you get these?”

 

“There are plenty of blueprints available for free on the city website,” Farah says evasively. “Don’t worry about it. The point is that we need to get into the area of the museum that’s restricted to certain staff members, so we’re  _ infiltrating _ .”

 

“Also it sounds cooler,” Dirk points out.

 

“Right, and it sounds cooler.” She nods shortly. “Okay, you two had better run through it. Your acting skills are pretty terrible. Remember—just look normal and don’t walk too fast.”

 

“Dirk might have trouble with the looking normal part,” Todd says with a smirk.

 

“Excuse me, you’re the most suspicious-looking fellow I’ve ever met,” Dirk says, shoving at him in retaliation. “You  _ always _ look guilty.”

 

“You’re both terribly conspicuous and need to tone it down,” Farah interrupts. “Dirk, no colourful jackets. Todd, keep your eyes on Dirk like you’re a couple of normal dudes out on a day trip and  _ don’t _ look at the cameras, for goodness sakes.”

 

Dirk flops back into the couch. “You worry too much. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ve got a—a feeling about it.”

 

“Yes, very comforting,” Farah says dryly.

 

“We’re going to get shot,” Todd groans.

 

He harrumphs. “I hate you both.”

 

-

 

The museum turns out to be a fantastic idea, in the sense that Todd and Dirk  manage to sneak into the archives and steal the archival copy of the vase’s historical record—and also a terrible idea, because they’re subsequently chased around the building by angry archivists and a foursome of well-armed security guards.

 

“The roof?” Todd looks around incredulously as they burst through the door that Dirk has led them to.

 

“Perfect,” Dirk declares, slamming the door behind him. The wind whips his hair off his face. It’s chilly; he holds his arms and wishes he’d brought a jacket. “Do you know parkour?”

 

“No!” Todd yelps. “Nobody knows parkour, Dirk! It’s all fake.”

 

“I’m sure some of it is real,” Dirk says, but quietly, because Todd is looking a bit frantic. “Come on, let’s just sit over there. At least they don’t know we’re up here. We can wait until they quit looking and sneak out.”

 

He pulls Todd to the lee side of the wall and sits down on the concrete. There’s still some warmth in the sun and it’s not bad. Todd sits next to him with some reluctance, leaning back against the wall.

 

Their shoulders brush and Dirk stretches his legs out in front of him.

 

“We got the records,” he says, waving the folder.

 

“We almost got tasered,” Todd replies, tipping his head back against the wall. “It was kind of fun, though.”

 

“Have you ever been chased by librarians?” Dirk asks. “I think everyone ought to be able to say they have. Required life experience.”

 

Todd snorts. “I have already, once. When I was a kid I used to put chewing gum in the books at the library and one of the librarians caught me doing it one day.”

 

“You were quite a truant,” Dirk says admiringly.

 

“I bet you were a nerd in school.” Todd bumps his shoulder.

 

“Yes, excellent grades and terrible glasses. Well, no glasses. But terrible hair. I had a bowl cut,” Dirk explains. “As you might guess, I only ever used the library for studying.”

 

“When I was in highschool I mostly used it for making out with my girlfriends between the rows,” Todd says. He glances over at Dirk as if to gauge his reaction. “It was kinda hot,” he admits. “Mostly because you could get caught. But it was a pretty big library, so sometimes you could go the whole lunch hour without anyone noticing you were in there.”

Dirk feels his stomach twist with nervous exhilaration. He nudges his hand against Todd’s. “Maybe you should show me what I’m missing out on.”

 

“Dude, I’m not—this isn’t—” Todd furrows his brow. “I’m straight.”

 

Something goes tight in Dirk’s chest. He nods quickly. “Yes, of course. Sorry, I was just—being ridiculous.”

 

“I mean, jerking off together is different.”

 

“Ah.” Dirk looks out at the horizon and desperately wishes not to be having this conversation. “Naturally.”

 

“All guys do it.”

 

He pulls his knees up and nods. “I’ve certainly heard that.”

 

“It’s not gay or anything.”

 

Dirk has a sudden, vicious urge to tell Todd to shut up. He suppresses it with surprising force of will.

 

They sit in silence for a while, watching the sun drift down toward the city skyline. It’s a lovely evening—clear and cool.

 

“I guess it’s not like  _ you’re _ gay, either,” Todd says out of the blue. “And it wouldn’t be a hardship to make out with you.”

 

Dirk bites his lip.

 

“And we’re kind of stuck up here.” Todd’s fingers tap nervously against his thigh.

 

When Todd leans in, Dirk isn’t ready. The first kiss takes him by surprise and he makes an undignified noise as his hands come up to hover between them. Todd’s arm lands on the other side of him and his body frames Dirk’s against the wall, so close he can feel the heat radiating off him.

 

His lips are soft and his stubble scratches Dirk’s chin gently. For a moment Dirk is frozen, and then Todd’s lips move against his and his whole body goes hot so fast his head spins. Todd uses his free hand to cup the back of Dirk’s head and the gesture is so careful that he gets hot for a completely different reason.

 

Todd pulls back enough to search his face. Dirk can feel his cheeks colouring under his gaze.

 

He kisses Dirk again, this time like he means it. Dirk parts his lips and lets it happen. He’s used to being an active participant, but Todd kisses like he has something to prove and he feels like he’s being swept along for the ride. He slides one hand around Todd’s waist, revelling in the heat that comes through his thin t-shirt. Todd fists a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, his grip tight enough to pull Dirk’s head back to an angle that renders him immobile.

 

When they part this time they’re both breathing heavier, and Dirk is regretting his choice in jeans. He reaches down and adjusts himself and Todd lets out a breath.

 

“Maybe we should try to sneak back out now,” he says. His voice is rough with arousal.

 

Dirk is sure his eyes are wide as saucers. “Yep,” he croaks.

 

-

 

They’re hardly through the door of Todd’s apartment before Todd is on him. He pushes Dirk up against the wall next to the coat rack and drags him down by the collar of his shirt to kiss him, hot and open-mouthed and sloppy. Dirk gasps into his mouth as Todd presses into him, a solid weight against his front.

 

He holds Todd’s face with both hands, enchanted by every detail—the stubble on his jaw because Todd doesn’t believe in shaving regularly, the shape of his face in the palm of Dirk’s hand, the way he exhales against Dirk’s mouth and crowds closer to Dirk, hard against his thigh.

 

Todd pulls back suddenly. “Do you want to—?”

 

He trails off. Dirk nods frantically.

 

“Yes,” is all he can think to say. “Anything.”

 

“Thank God,” Todd breathes.

 

He’s pressing Dirk back into the wall, cupping his ass to pull them closer together. Dirk moans as Todd’s lips find the corner of his jaw and he rolls his hips in a devastatingly effective motion.

 

Then he’s gone, and Dirk opens his eyes. Before he realizes what’s going on Todd is on his knees, fumbling with Dirk’s belt.

 

“Oh,” Dirk gasps. “Maybe we should move to the, um, the bedroom?”

 

Todd looks up at him as he pulls Dirk’s jeans and pants down in one motion. “Here’s fine.”

 

“Are you sure—?”

 

He cuts off with a strangled noise as Todd swallows his cock down in one easy motion.

 

“It’s just, I’m not sure if my legs will hold out,” he goes on.

 

Todd’s fingers dig into his hips and he does something brain-melting with his tongue. Dirk shuts up and focuses on not immediately shooting his load.

For a straight guy Todd is mind-blowingly good at sucking cock. Dirk tries to be polite and hold still, but Todd tugs his hips forward in encouragement and moans when Dirk’s fingers tighten in his hair like he likes it. It sets his head spinning.

 

He moves his hips gently at first, hardly believing that this is happening at all. It isn’t very long before he feels his orgasm building up in the pit of his abdomen, the hot feeling in his stomach rising to fill all of him. He tugs at Todd’s hair.

 

“Todd,” he gets out, and Todd looks up at him. “Fuck, oh my god, I’m going to come.”

 

“You want to come on my face?” Todd smirks, his reddened lips curling up. Dirk softens his hold, he can’t help it, and strokes Todd’s face.

 

“No, no, I just—” He urges Todd up. “Can I kiss you?”

 

“Um.” The smirk falls away and Todd looks lost. He gets to his feet and Dirk pulls him in. His lips are soft and wet. This time it’s Todd who hesitates as Dirk opens him up with his tongue, groaning into his mouth while he takes himself in hand.

 

“Like that,” he says, moving his fist up and down his cock, and Todd gets the idea. He braces both hands on either side of Dirk’s head and Dirk leans down just a little so that Todd can kiss him comfortably, and hardly a breath later he comes all over his fist and his good blue button-down and the front of Todd’s t-shirt.

 

When he’s had a second to breathe he clumsily opens Todd’s jeans and gets a hand inside to jerk him off. Todd makes a noise in his throat and twists his hips away.

 

“You don’t have to,” he pants.

 

Dirk stops. “I want to,” he murmurs against Todd’s lips.

 

“Y-yeah, okay,” Todd stutters.

 

Todd is wet already and Dirk’s hand is slippery with come, and it’s enough of a lubrication to work messily over Todd’s cock. Todd moves his hips with increasing urgency and Dirk swallows his noises as he fucks rhythmically into Dirk’s hand.

 

He drops his head to Dirk’s shoulder and muffles his moans in the crook of his neck, his mouth hot and damp on Dirk’s skin. When he come he bites down there and Dirk gasps in surprise. Todd shudders against him.

 

Slowly, Dirk pulls his hand away. He feels sort of light, like he might float away. “We’re a mess,” he mumbles.

 

Todd doesn’t move for a moment. His face rests against Dirk’s neck and his whole body slumps, pressing Dirk against the wall. He says something into Dirk’s shirt collar that Dirk can’t hear.

 

Dirk looks up at the ceiling as if it’ll give him answers. He is, if possible, more lost than he has ever been.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song of the same name by Hozier.


End file.
